


Wizard's Chess

by TAching



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 09:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAching/pseuds/TAching
Summary: In an attempt to protect Hermione, Harry and Ron ditch her and go after the horocruxes themselves.  But no one can keep Hermione Granger out of a fight. She joins the Order of the Pheonix along with some unexpected allies.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: There will be some head jumping here. Sometimes you'll see the story from Hermione's point of view and sometimes from Draco's- and maybe a few quick chapters from the perspective of minor characters. Just a heads up!

Draco shivered and pulled his cloak a little tighter around himself. Dark shapes moved through the mist and he waited impatiently for the signal to move in. As with most of his actions these days, he just wanted to get it done with.

He wasn’t even sure what they’re doing. He goes where he’s told and doesn’t ask questions. Stand here, move in on the signal, attack whatever moves. His father had made it clear that he is a tool, not a partner. He has learned the past way to survive is to be as unconscious as possible. His dreams of glory had turned to ash long ago when the cost of the Dark Lord’s revolution had become clear to him.

Draco stomped his feet and resisted the urge to cast a warming charm on his icy toes. No magic until the signal. He glanced to the right. His mother had moved off in that direction after instructing him to hold until he saw the green light in the sky. She seemed . . . tense tonight. There was color in her usually pale cheeks and she had nagged him to put on a heavier jumper in anticipation of the cold. 

The mist formed patterns, churning without wind. Is someone out there? 

“Mother?” He whispered into the dark. 

No reply.

His wand was already in his hand but he raised it, preparing a particularly nasty hex in his mind. 

Behind him, voices rose suddenly in a furious whisper. Draco whipped around to face the sound and then crumpled to the cold grass. 

Out of the mist strode Narcissa Malfoy. Kneeling down beside her son, she checked his pulse with gentle fingers. Then she nodded in satisfaction. Sound asleep and likely to remain so for at least two hours, she thought. Holding his wrist firmly now, she reached into a pocket of her cloak and wrapped her hand around the plain gray stone hiding there. The portkey tugged them in and away, nothing but a disturbance in the mist to mark their passage.


	2. Loyalty is a whip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the hell is going on, Mother?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: References to domestic abuse.

When Draco opened his eyes, he found himself looking into the bewildered face of Neville Longbottom. Draco groped for his wand and came up with a handful of empty robe. “Where is my wand?!” He demanded, pushing himself into a sitting position. A wave of dizziness made his head spin and he fell back. 

Neville jumped up from the over stuffed chair he had been sitting in and backpedaled away, “Ah! He’s awake!” The Gryffindor announced, “He’s awake!” 

Hermione Granger stepped around the end of the couch and into Draco’s view, “Malfoy-”

The Slytherin pushed himself back up, ignoring the vertigo and forcing himself to stay upright. “Granger!” He hissed, “Where am I? What’s happening? Who hexed me?” He growled, “Where is my wand?” 

The muggleborn rolled her eyes, “You’re in a safe house. You were . . . liberated from the Death Eaters last night. You weren’t hexed. It was simply a sleep spell to facilitate your rescue. Your wand is on the table.” She added, “Your mother is in the next room.” 

His hand closed around his wand and he lunged to his feet, swaying wildly. He grabbed at the sofa arm to stay upright, “You kidnapped my mother?!”

Longbottom had his wand out and was pointing it at Draco. His jaw was set tight. 

Granger looked like her usual self, annoyed. “We didn’t kidnap anyone. We rescued you as agreed up.” 

Draco’s wand moved between the two, “Agreed by who?”

“Your mother.” 

“That’s a lie!” 

She actually huffed at him, “That would be a bloody stupid lie to tell.” Pushing Neville to one side, she sat down in the chair he had vacated, “I don’t care what you believe. It’s the truth. And you might as well put your wand down. I doubt you could cast lumos yet.” 

With a snarl of rage, he extended his wand. Granger had hers out in a flash and-

“Draco! Enough!” The sharp voice was familiar and he found himself frozen in place. 

Across from him, Granger lowered her wand slowly. 

Draco recovered quickly, “Mother, what is going on?!”

Narcissa stepped through the doorway, followed closely by a tall, dark-skinned wizard Draco didn’t recognize. She turned back toward the older man, “I think I need a few moments alone with my son, Kingsley.” 

The tall wizard nodded, “Of course. Hermione. Neville, let’s give the Malfoys some privacy.”

Neville nodded and moved toward the door. Granger rose more reluctantly tucking her wand away while watching Draco through narrowed eyes. 

When the door closed behind the trio, Draco turned on his mother, “What have you done?”

She sighed, “What was necessary.” She crossed behind him and he turned to watch as she picked up a pitcher and poured herself a glass of water. The pitcher sat on a table tucked under a large window. Seeing his mother, standing in bright sunlight for what felt like the first time in years, he could see her weariness. Her skin and hair were as pale as always but also leached of vitality. She looked as though she had aged years in the months the Dark Lord had occupied their home. 

“Where are we?”

She glanced out the window, “Switzerland, I think. Or perhaps Italy.” 

Gritting his teeth, tried again, “Why are we here?” He made his careful way around the sofa toward the table. 

“I have left your father. And the Dark Lord’s camp.” 

He froze once more. Played her answer over in his head. I have left your father. And the Dark Lord’s camp. I have left- I have-

He opened his mouth but no sound came out. The cocoon of indifference he had wrapped himself in was falling away in heavy sheets. He felt raw and naked, shocked by the sudden exposure. 

She took another elegant sip of water. 

He whispered, “Have you gone mad?”

Narcissa set the glass down on the table with a decided click. She studied him, a line between her brows. He could see the moment she made her decision, as her mind ticked away and then came to an abrupt stop at a solution. “I think you need to see something.” 

Reaching up, she unfastened her robe and slipped it off. She folded it carefully and draped it across the back of the other chair. Then she began to unbutton the small pearl buttons of her blouse.

“Mother! What are you-” 

She pulled back the collar of her shirt and he saw it, the ugly series of scars that stretched from her collar bone, across her shoulder and down her arm under the fabric of her sleeve. He didn’t recognize the pattern but it was obviously the result of a hex. An incredibly painful one. 

Draco felt a burning rage wash over him that dimmed his vision and set his heart drumming in his throat. A wave of cold replaced it and he clenched his fists, “Who?” He asked, his voice strangled, “Who did that to you?”

“Your father.” 

His legs gave out and he groped for a chair. When he looked up at his mother, whatever was on his face set her reaching for him. Pulling her shirt back into place, she crouched beside him, her hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry to tell you this way. I never wanted-”

“How long?” he whispered.

“What?”

“How long has he been doing,” Draco swallowed thickly, “that to you? It’s not the first time.” 

“No. It’s not,” She sighed and moved to sit in the other chair, “Since the Dark Lord’s return.” 

“I don’t understand.”

Her gaze moved to the window and the sunlight falling through it onto the tabletop, “Those who are bound to Lord Voldemort and work in close proximity to him are . . . changed by the experience. When the Dark Lord came back from death, he was not the same. The hatred, the rage that seethed in him before was a pale shadow compared to what he carries now. His most devoted followers are able to channel that power for spell work but there are consequences. This,” she gestured to her shoulder, “was the first time. After the ministry raid went so badly.” 

“The scar- did you see a healer?”

“No.” 

They sat in silence. Draco’s insides a sick churning turmoil. 

“He said he was sorry. That it would never happen again, that he understood the Dark Lord’s influence better now. And I believed him. Until it happened again.”

“How many times? What else did he-”

“That,” Narcissa vowed, meeting his eye with a steady gaze, “I will never tell you.” 

“I would have protected you.”

She smiled softly, and touched his arm again, “I didn’t want you to choose between your father and I. I thought, if we could just wait out the war. . . but it got worse. I saw him struggle to control his rage with you. I saw-”

Draco’s hand rubbed his cheek absently, “It was only once.”

“I still might have waited it out but his plan to pit you against Dumbledore was more than I could stomach. He wanted to make you into the same monster he had become. And he didn’t care if you died in the process. As long as it earned him favor with the Dark Lord.” 

“So you made this plan.” 

She nodded. The boy studied his mother, his emotions had retreated to some cold recess of his mind as he processed what she told him. There was something more. . . 

“You’re a Slytherin. You wanted revenge.”

She raised her chin, “I was a good wife to your father- everything a pureblood wife should be. I gave him an exceptional son. All I asked in return was his loyalty to us. But he chose ambition instead.” Her expression was as unyielding as stone, “Before I became a Malfoy, I was the daughter of Cygnus Black, descendent of one of the 28 original families. I was not born to be beaten like a house elf.” 

An acid taste filled his mouth. He didn’t understand what was rising up under his skin. The only thing he recognized in the morass was rage, “What happens now?”

“I’ve made a deal. You will be kept safe in return for my service in this war.” 

“You what?” He demanded.

“You’ll be moved to a safe house-”

“I am not going to leave you with these glory-hungry martyrs! And you are not shipping me off like some kind of luggage! After everything-”

“Draco!” She stood and gave him the imperial look he had so feared as a child, “All these sacrifices were to keep you safe-”

“If you think I’m safe from father or the Dark Lord in some windswept shack on a moor in the middle of-”

“I will not allow-”

“If you send me away, it had better be to Azkaban. Because, I will do everything in my power to shake whatever jailors you put on me and find my way back to you.” He pulled out his wand and began to pronounce the syllables that would make the vow unbreakable when she threw up her hands. 

“Stop! That is not necessary.”

He lowered the wand reluctantly.

“If you promise to listen to me and obey my instructions, I won’t send you away.” 

He nodded, “Thank you.” 

His mother drummed her fingers on the table, scowling at him with a sour expression. 

Like he did when he was a little boy, he offered her his brightest smile. 

Her look turned to resignation, “Very well. What do you think our next move should be?” She asked.

“Well, if we’re joining this side of the war against father and everyone we’ve ever known, we had better make sure it’s the winning one.”

She smiled the cool tight smile he knew so well, “My thoughts precisely. Now. . . let’s discuss what I liberated from the Malfoy vaults. . . “


End file.
